Kheled-zâram
by Balin Lord of Moria
Summary: Balin gets some practical and spiritual advice from a long-dead ancestor prior to the destruction of his Dwarf colony in Moria.


**Disclaimer:** I do not own The Hobbit or The Silmarillion, J.R.R. Tolkien owns both of them, and so does his estate.

* * *

Balin had always wanted to have this experience.

He was walking outside to East-gate of Khazad-dûm, or Moria, as was the more popular name these days, into Azanulbizar, where he had once fought in a bloody battle at the end of the War of the Dwarves and Orcs. He didn't altogether approve of that war, because he didn't approve of vengeance, even when it seemed to be righteous, but he had fought anyway, to help rid the Misty Mountains of most of the filthy Orcs that polluted them.

He was on his way to Kheled-zâram, or the Mirrormere, where it was said that a crown of silver stars in a circlet appeared over the head of anyone who looked down into it day or night. It was a sacred spot, meant mainly for Dwarf Lords and Kings, though sometimes, other Dwarves came to look there, too. Durin, Father of the Long-beards and the eldest of the Seven Fathers of the Dwarves, had looked into this beautiful, dark lake very long ago, and had seen a circlet of seven stars, like a crown, above his head. He had accepted this vision as an acknowledgement of his incomparable royalty, and as a sign that he should found his kingdom, Khazad-dûm, there. Mirrormere was revered by all Dwarves, and it, the springs of Kibil-nâla that fed it, and the valley of Azanulbizar in general had been hallowed by numerous ancient associations by Durin's folk. As a Dwarf Lord in his own right, Balin felt it was only right that he look into it, too. His old friends, Ori and Oin, and the brave but late Floi, had already looked into it, and they were not Dwarf Lords, and now it was his turn.

As he looked into the dark waters, he saw the crown of stars appear above his head, but to his amazement, he saw something else take shape in the lake.

"Welcome, Balin, son of Fundin," said an old Dwarf voice.

Balin looked around in surprise and saw what seemed to be an ethereal figure standing right next to him, a Dwarf by the looks of him. And he thought that he recognized the Dwarf.

"Durin?" Balin asked, astonished.

"Indeed," said the Dwarf King, "Durin the Deathless, actually. Allow me to welcome you to Kheled-zâram."

"Thank you, my Lord," Balin said courteously, "At your service!"

"And I at your service, and your family's!" replied Durin. "I hope you can understand why my folk, the Long-beards, and I, have always used the Mirrormere since building this subterranean wonder."

"Well, I know that you saw a crown of stars appear in the clear, dark water, and it was an auspicious sign that Mahal wanted you to build Khazad-dûm here," said Balin, "and that we Dwarves must all remember and honor this landmark in memory of that day."

"That is part of it, Lord Balin," Durin explained, "But Kheled-zâram is meant to be sacred ground to all the Khazâd, even those of other Dwarf clans. Dwarves can find solace and strength by looking at Durin's Crown in the dark water, for it is not only a reminder of my kingship, or of the location of our first and greatest ancestral home, but it also reminds us that our spiritual lordship over the Dwarf race and the Mirrormere's everlasting crown are something divine, eternal and enduring, in and of themselves. Kibil-nâla, too, is sacred, because it feeds the Mirrormere new water with its cold spring water forever, and Khazad-dûm shall always be holy ground for the Khazâd, in this world and the next, even though it has been occupied by the Dark Powers."

"But we have already cleared out the Orcs and Trolls and Goblins that crawled through the Mines of Moria," said the cardinal-clad Dwarf Lord, "Do you mean, they are going to come back again?"

"I am saying that they never left Moria," Durin said. "It is good to know that you care about Khazad-dûm, my friend, but the Khazad-dûm of the present Middle-earth is a lost cause, and anyway, the earth is filled with other places to dig for precious things."

"What does that mean, my Lord?" Balin asked uncertainly.

"It means a few things, my friend," explained Durin, "Firstly, it means that even if Khazad-dûm is lost to us, we still have other places to live and seek out our fortunes. Your people already use the Lonely Mountain, the Iron Hills and the Blue Mountains, and you once used the Grey Mountains. There _are_ other places for our folk to call home, you know.

"Secondly, it means that reclaiming Khazad-dûm at this time of the Dark Lord's strength and that of Durin's Bane and the Orcs was a foolhardy move. The nameless terror is not gone, like you might think, and there are too many Orcs that have returned to our old home for your small colony to take on by yourselves. I fear that your colony will not last much longer, Balin, Lord of Moria."

"You mean, we're going to lose Moria again," said Balin fearfully, "and we're all going to die?"

"It looks probable to me," said Durin, "I apologize for being so grim, but I must speak the truth. Your colony's days are numbered. But there is one more thing that my earlier statement meant, and I intend it as a sign of hope for you.

"Thirdly and finally, it means that even when a Dwarf Lord or King and his subjects die in Middle-earth, even death cannot take away the nobility or heroism of a true servant of Mahal the Maker. Mahal never condemns his creations, and here, in the Halls of Waiting, where I have sat for many a millennium, there is a chair of waiting for every Khuzd that has ever passed on, from Narvi Elf-friend and Telchar to even the hateful Petty-dwarves, and you, too, shall rest here with your fathers until the world is renewed. And all your friends from the Company of Thorin Oakenshield, including Oin, Ori, and Thorin himself, shall be with us. Mahal shaped Kheled-zâram and Kibil-nâla to ensure the immortality of our race and our culture, and even without Khazad-dûm, they will always be there to nurture our royal line and give us our eternal home that will never die or be taken. So worry not, Balin, the death of this colony has already begun, but you shall always be a Dwarf Lord in life and death."

"So there will always be a Kheled-zâram and a Kibil-nâla for our kind to remember our spiritual sovereignty, then?" asked Balin.

"Yes," confirmed Durin, "and there will always be a Khazad-dûm somewhere, too, whether it will be the Grey Mountains, the Lonely Mountain, the Iron Hills, or anywhere else, including in the afterlife within the Halls of Waiting."

"Thank you, Durin, my Lord," said Balin, bowing to the apparition, "I will always keep that in mind, and I hope you can tell that to more Dwarves sometime, also."

"I will tell them as soon as they come to these Halls," said Durin, and then disappeared.

"Wait!" said Balin, "What did you mean the death of my colony has already begun?"

But Durin was not coming back.

Disappointed, Balin gazed into the Mirrormere and saw the crown of seven stars that Durin I had seen so long ago in those clear, clean waters. "I suppose it's time for my people to leave this place now," he mused to himself. _Well_, he thought as he gazed on the crown of stars again, _like the Deathless said, at least we'll always have our royal line. And we'll always have Kibil-nâla and Kheled-zâram._

Then he took a walk to the springs of Kibil-nâla, and took some of the water with a large water bottle, and took a long, deep drink, savoring the clean purity and the cold temperature of the spring water. _Even the waters of the Celebrant in Lothlórien itself cannot match the Kibil-nâla for refreshing purity and cleanliness. The Silverlode certainly deserves to be counted with Mirrormere as a site for Dwarves to enjoy._

Balin looked into Mirrormere one more time on his way back. _Kheled-zâram and Kibil-nâla, fair and wonderful! How I long to see what awaits the Dwarves in the Halls of Waiting after this life! If they are this lovely now, imagine what the new ones will be like! Yes, the line of Durin shall never die! And to think that I have seen and heard Durin himself in person! If only my whole colony could have that experience!_

There was a scuffling noise behind him. He turned around just in time to be shot by an Orc arrow. He fell to the ground dying, with these thoughts of hope still on his mind.

_It's only too bad I won't be able to tell these things to any of my friends…_ he thought as he died, and passed on to the Halls of Waiting.

* * *

Within a few days later, all the rest of the Dwarves, Oin, Ori, Frar, Loni, Nali, and the rest, had also passed on to the same Halls, and the Dwarf colony of Moria was no more.


End file.
